The
evening before my second chemotherapy treatment, I accompanied my daughter for
a very special evening in Tulsa. With my
chemo class at 2 pm, her dinner and small group class from 5-10 pm, and my
treatment the next morning at 7 am, it seemed like a good idea to stay
overnight in a nearby hotel. It turned
out to be one of the best evenings of my life.
The
group of eight women—four class members, the teacher, two ministers, and me the
guest—met at a fine dining Italian food restaurant. The appetizers, food, and shared bites of
dessert were scrumptious. The
conversation was filled with laughter and stories of God at work. But what captured my attention the most was
the way the group reached out to our server.
I’ve heard my daughter tell of such things before, but I had never
experienced them. When there was a lull
in service and our server had a few minutes, Myong asked if Dana could pray for
her and speak a word into her life. “Oh,
yes,” she said. A little later, two of
the other women spoke to her as well.
Each one had a pertinent discerning (hold on to your hats!) prophetic
word specific to her life, which she gladly received, and each one prayed
briefly for her. What a way to bless
your server, besides leaving a generous tip, that is!
It’s
true. The people my daughter hangs out
with operate in an alternate universe to the normal, workaday world. They have overcome their fears of stepping
out to bless other people with God’s love in original ways. I learn so much from them.
From
the restaurant, we drove across Tulsa to Jerry’s place of business. There she had the front room set up for the
video class she has facilitated for them these past two years. Actually, the class was supposed to be
completed in one year, but Jerry’s unexpected round of colon cancer surgery, gall
bladder surgery, chemotherapy, and then a broken foot interrupted. So tonight was truly a special milestone. We started with recorded contemporary praise
and worship music. Here I confess that I
am only very slowly warming to that style.
I worship best to traditional hymns and light rock Christian from the
1970s.
And
then, communion, in a manner I had never before experienced. The bread was a baked loaf in the shape of a
lamb, representing Jesus. There was olive
oil and honey with which to drench or dip the bread. And there were small goblets of grape juice
and milk to drink. We shared this little
meal with laughter and celebration. Afterwards,
Jerry’s daughter, Roxanne, shared a sermon on Zechariah 3. I should have recorded it. There were so many nuggets of soul-piercing
truth she gleaned from that chapter.
The
graduation ceremony (which I will not attempt to describe here—suffice it to
say that it was both meaningful and totally original) ensued, and each of the
four women who had completed the course received her certificate. Prayer and prophetic words followed. Each of us was prayed over individually, with
Roxanne and Cary being the lead ministers.
Every single person there received beautiful and encouraging direction
and promises from God’s Word. It was a time
of tears and joy and a profound experience of God’s love.
I
want to share my experience. The focus
of the prayers and words were concerning my breast cancer. Roxanne’s first words were a
declaration: there will be victory and
complete healing. God will be with me in
each step of the process and direct my doctors.
I have a long life ahead. Jesus
will not let this enemy attack of cancer cut my life short. I wept tears of joy and relief. There were more words from Cary concerning
healing, and Roxanne read all of Psalm 91.
I received. But my turn was not
quite over. Jerry had what she called a “silly
story” that she felt compelled to share.
She
had been driving back home on a Sunday from visiting her sister in Nebraska, I
think, and was very tired from too many late nights of conversation and very
little sleep. All at once a deep fog
fell, the type of fog in which you cannot see more than a few feet. She prayed.
She did something I would never have even thought to do and commanded
the fog to lift in the name of Jesus. It
did not. She got mad. She tried again. Nothing happened. She was discouraged. The fog did not lift, but a car suddenly appeared
and passed her. She followed its red
tail lights for all the rest of the many miles home in that deep fog.
To
me, the lesson was clear. This cancer
journey is going to be a long, foggy journey.
The only way through is to watch the light that leads me, keep
following, not worry about all I cannot see.
Jesus will get me home.
And,
by the way, I had a wonderful thing happen the next morning. When the nurse asked about my pain levels, I
had the distinct pleasure to answer I didn’t have any pain (an unusual situation
for me). It felt like a benediction on
the experiences of the evening before.
So if you ever hear me babbling on about alternate universes and
following red tail lights, bear with me:
it’s my new shorthand for God’s amazing peace and direction.
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